Yeah, I thought, surprised, especially in light of what I’d planned when I discovered I had cancer and had run away to die. Me too. Even with still being the Dark Queen, it hasn’t been bad. Not bad at all.
Other than the Dark Queen, I’d abdicated my titles in favor of Ed, my primo, who was now Master of the City of New Orleans and most of the southeast U.S., with loyal but independent masters of various cities owing him allegiance. He was also the titular emperor of Europe if he could take it and hold on to power. Or he had been before he was kidnapped. “Out with it,” I said, as my body settled into some semblance of comfort.
Alex said, “You abdicated the emperorship of the EuroVamps. We know that. But apparently no one in Europe knows that. If Ed ever got the papers, he never said anything.”
I had sent my abdication letter to Edmund and Sabina, the outclan priestess of the Mithrans. I hadn’t heard back from either of them. But . . . Sabina was old enough to take a decade to reply to correspondence. Ed was sneaky. Ed played the long game. What had Ed done? Maybe more important, what had he not done? “That little sneak,” I said, trying to sound calm and not mad enough to chew nails. Lying by tone. Before they could reply I added, “And what is Grégoire doing? Is he safe or is he in as much danger as Ed?”
“Grégoire is fighting duels and battles in France, challenging the Mithrans who are killing humans, and trying to hold his own lands,” Bruiser said. “He is scheduled to fight Titus’s former heir this week.” He turned his head and gave me a cheeky grin. “At each duel, he declares that he is fighting as the proxy of the emperor—Edmund—and for the Dark Queen, holding her up as some sort of King Arthur, and her reign as some sort of Camelot.”
“Oh . . . crap,” I said, incredulity and laughter lacing my words.
“He is gathering an army that he doesn’t intend to use, planning to gift it to you.” Bruiser’s smile faded and he touched my ankle through the blanket as if to reassure himself I was still here. “Brandon and Brian keep me in the loop.”
Brandon and Brian were Onorios, like Bruiser. They would talk. And no one was talking to me because what good was I? “Why not keep the land himself? Become the next emperor. I’d let him have it if Edmund . . .” If Ed dies, but I didn’t say that. “. . . doesn’t want it.”
“Grégoire once told Leo that ruling is tedious,” Bruiser said.
I breathed out a soft laugh. Yeah. That sounded like Blondie. The gorgeous diminutive fanghead would rather seduce his way through France and fight battles than rule in a might-makes-right bloodsucking world. And he was still grieving for Leo, so that meant he was geared for violence, not politics.
I sipped the green tea, thinking. The tea was very sweet, with strong notes of ginger, lemon, and mint, soothing my stomach; the mug warmed my cold hands. The chair heated beneath me and micromuscle cramps I hadn’t consciously noticed eased. I fought to keep the relief off my face. My brothers hated it when they saw my pain. “I need to make some calls. May I have my cell?” I asked. I didn’t have the energy to get it off the desk only feet away.
Eli crossed the room and placed it in my hand. “Charged.”
“I’ll be making calls too,” Bruiser said, “to the Master of the City of Asheville and checking on things in New Orleans.” He kissed my forehead and I suddenly wished he wasn’t so . . . solicitous. That was the word. I needed to hit something, not be coddled. “You’d break bones,” Bruiser said, his grin returning. When I scowled at him he chuckled and said, “It was in your eyes. You can spar with all of us when you’re well.”
I grunted. He had a point. And at least he no longer sounded so despondent. We had allies to warn and favors to call in, possibly a trip to New Orleans to plan, and a battle to strategize. Bruiser should be in his element. “Hey,” I said, trying to offer up a positive, “Europe may be going to hell in a handbasket, but we have our allies and our land.”